11:11 (part 13)

As with truth or dare, I have always been aware of the lead up to the anniversary of that fateful day. Learnings and synchronicities over the years (full circle (part 7)) have lessened the survivor's guilt that I suffered for so long (a lil' part of history and carpe diem), memorializing that reminder at the base of the nape of my neck (11:11 (part 4)) and capturing the ripple effects from the stone skipping series.

Being on this island, surrounded by the vast blue of the ocean and lush green of the land, waking up to sunrises or falling asleep to the glistening reflection of the moonlight over the ocean, lulled by the music of the native birds and the gentle ocean breezes, seem to have stopped time and the hustle and bustle of the chaos in the world for me. For the first time in decades, I hadn't once thought of this day.

With my roommate being gravely ill for the last few days (and my pseudo quarantining), yesterday was our first day to venture out together to shake the cobwebs. A chance promotion at a local grocery store had me trying to determine if it was the second Sunday of the month, noticing a flyer at the cash register publishing the actual date. For a split second, it was just like any other date, especially written out in long form. As I looked up to step into the queue, it hit me like a ton of bricks, silently mouthing to myself 9/11.

I was surprised by the sudden wave of sadness that overcame my body, perhaps because of the drastic mood change. With intention, I decided to shake if off, and when we went for shaved ice afterwards, I was reminded of the lasting effects it had on New Yorkers when a couple started a conversation with us in what seemed like a benign gesture, yet it made me remembered how friendly and kind we were all to each other in the aftermath.

In the shadow of saudade (part 3), I woke up this morning to:

"Thought about you yesterday, 9/11. Thrilled you're still here ❤️"